


Hoth is (Not) for Lovers

by bar2d2s



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: Rebels
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-13
Updated: 2018-03-13
Packaged: 2019-03-30 18:56:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,204
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13957887
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bar2d2s/pseuds/bar2d2s
Summary: Hoth is cold and Kallus is miserable.Set only just before Empire Strikes Back.





	Hoth is (Not) for Lovers

There were no gods in Echo Base.

Kallus knew he was just being dramatic, if only because the sheer number of times Zeb had expressly  _told_  him that he was being dramatic, but he didn’t care. The cold was all-encompassing. Their room was literally made of ice, carved into the side of an icy cavern, the floor covered in a layer of clothes, dirty and clean, just so he’d be able to walk to the refresher and back at night without boots on. Every breeze that passed through the halls bit at his skin, even when he’d covered up everything but his face. Every second he spent outside of the insulated zip-tent that was their bed was a walking torment, feeling as though he’d never be warm again. To add insult to literal injury, his bad leg ached constantly, the ever-shifting weather patterns playing absolute havoc on it. 

Zeb’s great sacrifice was that he was now forced to wear  _socks_. With little skid-strips on the bottom.

“They’re embarrassin’.” He’d mumbled after being presented with his cold-weather gear. “The Wookie doesn’t need ‘em.”

“Chewbacca is covered with fur that is four times denser than yours.” Princess Leia explained patiently, the wind in the hall having chapped her lips a dark red. “You’re one of the strongest, most capable beings on base, Zeb, we can’t afford to have you lose a foot to frostbite.” Playing to Zeb’s ego worked well and while he groused about it endlessly, he still wore the socks whenever he went outside the base.

Needless to say, Kallus was a big fan of the young senator. But he was an even bigger fan of being  _warm_ , as he made his lover well-aware that night, for what was probably the thousandth time since they’d arrived on base little over a week ago.

“And here I thought you’d jump at the chance to warm up with some shared body heat.” Zeb groused, though the sparkle in his eyes made it sound more playful than irritated. But Kallus was firm: he would only be removing his clothes to use the sonic until he either got more used to the cold, or they found an assignment off-planet. “Fussy.” He huffed, rolling onto his side to tug Kallus back against his chest.

“Oh, settle yourself. We’ve done the jungle, now the ice. I’m sure our next base will be on a lovely beach planet. Maybe now that the Empire has abandoned Scarif...” He’d been joking, but Zeb still went quiet.

“You’re really that miserable, eh?” He asked, nuzzling his face into Kallus’ neck.

It was hard to explain. Aside from the general physical discomfort it caused, the endless cold brought back memories, both good and bad. He’d almost frozen to death on Bahryn, before the Empire finally found his signal. But it was also on Bahryn, amid the ice and snow and fearsome creatures, that he made one of the most important decisions of his life.

_If I survive this, I’m going to investigate every Imperial inconsistency that’s ever niggled at the back of my mind._

He’d survived. He’d investigated. And a little over a year later, he’d officially defected. Best thing he’d ever done, really.

“Yes and no.” Kallus replied, wrapping both arms around the arm Zeb had slung across his chest. “Maybe I  _am_  just being fussy, I complained about the humidity on Yavin, too.”

Zeb was quiet for a long time, long enough that Kallus was almost certain he’d fallen asleep. Then, suddenly, “After the war, I’m going to take you someplace temperate. There’s this planet I know, the weather’s mild all year ‘round. You’ll love it.”

Kallus shifted backwards, planting a kiss on the corner of Zeb’s mouth. “Sounds perfect to me already, dear. Maybe I’ll finally be able to get a tan.” Zeb pulled him into a proper kiss, rolling them until Kallus was flat on his back.

“If you want, we could even stay there.” There was nervous tension in his shoulders, and his eyes kept flicking around, looking anywhere but his face. Zeb always got like this, whenever the subject of their future came up. Kallus chuckled softly.

“We could go there, or return to Lothal. We could head to Ryloth with Hera and Jacen, or live in a paper box on Coruscant after my family formally disowns me. I don’t care where we go once the war is won, so long as I am with you, Garazeb.” He reached up to smooth one of Zeb’s sideburns, scratching at the bit of skin between his jaw and ear. A dreamy expression passed over Zeb’s face, and he leaned down to butt his forehead against his lover’s.

“You really do love me, don’t you?” He asked, though it was more of a statement than a question. 

“More and more every day.” Kallus declared, unabashedly. There were few on the base that were unaware of their relationship, though he’d heard that most assumed that it was strictly physical. Lasat were rare, and Kallus had often overheard those not in the know comment on how they’d be interested in bedding Zeb, once he and Kallus grew bored of each other. It boiled his blood that  _anyone_  could mistake their devotion to each other as meaningless boot-knocking...but they were also both intensely private men. Warriors, military men, unused to grand statements of love. Their little zip-tent bed was their haven in this way, because Kallus could say anything he wanted here, and only Zeb was around to hear it. 

Zeb tipped over onto his side, laughing. Ignoring Kallus’ squawks of protest while still being careful of his bad leg, Zeb pulled his human towards him by the waist, eventually rolling again so that Kallus lay comfortably atop him. “Karabast, we’re goners. I could never live without you again, I think.” His thumbs stroked down the sides of Kallus’ hips, trying to feel him through his snow suit. The statement warmed his heart as readily as Zeb’s immense body warmed his outside bits. 

“So then it’s agreed? After the war is won, we’re setting ourselves up on this mild planet of yours, maybe live out the rest of our lives together as boringly as possible?” Kallus intentionally kept his wording vague, so as not to make it sound like a proposal. You never knew what tomorrow would bring and while losing his lover would be devastating, to lose his husband...he would die.

“Until the Ashla calls us back into its eternal embrace.” Zeb replied, then yawned. “Tomorrow however, I’m supposed to be helping to carve out more rooms, and you’re being shipped off on that supply run. So now, sleep.”

Kallus hummed softly in agreement, shifting until he was able to mostly slide off of Zeb, his arm still slung over that powerful chest, head pillowed on his shoulder. Zeb used one of his feet to pull the covers up over them, and Kallus sighed in contentment. He and his man, they were beings of action. They did not waste words. So to make such a declaration, such a promise...it meant something. Everything. 

As Kallus fell asleep, he found that the cold didn’t bother him quite as much as it had before.


End file.
